



Class 
Book 



Coipght]^°.„LlAi 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Jboeme 



^ 







PRESS OF 

THE YAZOO SENTlNEIv 

YAZOO CITY, MISS. 



THE LIBRARY OF 
COt^CiRESS, 

|"r«u Coiijc*! Recave© 

ICLAftS ^ XXft, Wo. 

) 3 / 1 r 
/ COPY », 



75 '3 S3 1 

.Ui 

jfO 3 



DEDICATED 

TO 
MY MOTHER 



COPYRIGHT, 1903 



Poems 



Produce ! 

Be no longer a Chaos, but a World, or even World-kin. Produce! 
Produce! W^ere it but pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a product, 
produce it, in Clod's imine.—Carlji/lc. 

"Be no longer a Chaos, but a \\^orld, or even World-kin." 
The man who spends himself in unproductiveness 
Con.imits in sight of God a mighty sin. 

"Produce! Produce!" Thy work shall ever stand. 
"Were it but pitifullest infinitesimal," 
"I'is in accordance with di\ine command. 

"Produce! Produce!" Only the sluggard sits in ease. 
Wh.ile opportunities are wafted into other hands 
As winds of Autumn scatter fallen leaves. 

"Produce ! Produce !" Labor, not Genius is the force 
Which sliapcs. upon the an\il of a nattn^al law 
A lexer, which gives power to move the Universe. 



■'Produce! Produce!" That small product in evolving whirl. 
Acting in obedience to Divine creative power. 

Shall rise to higher life, and rising, lift the world. 



NEATH THE OI,D PINE TREE 



Heath the Old Pine Cree 

There is a touch of fall in the winds that hlow 
That carries me back to the days of yore, 
When Jim and I would wander together 
In fern-grown nooks, or fragrant heather. 

In fern-grown nooks where violets sleep; 
Where wild birds flutter and seem to weep 
That flowers soon should droop the head. 
Or lie in dank mold, cold and dead. 

In fragrant heath where crickets creep 
'Neath grasses brown about the feet; 
Where sun is held in a mist, like mould. 
And from the north comes the autumn cold. 

We loved the fern and we loved the flower ; 
W^e loved to wander at sunset hour 
O'er meadows brown where crickets creep. 
Or up the hillsides sere and steep. 

\\'e loved to whifif the scent of the pine 
That floats on the winds of autumn-time. 
Somehow, the fragrance seemed to creep 
Into our hearts and quicken their beat. 

Once he took my hand in his so cold 
And I felt the warmth in his heart and soul. 
When he said, as we stood beneatb the pine. 
"Sweetheart! Sweetheart! Say you are mine.'' 

'Neath the old pine tree as the winds blew cold. 
"My love for you, Jim, will not grow old." 
I said. Then, somehow, I felt the beat of his heart- 
"Sweethcart ! Sweetheart ! We shall never part." 



'NEATH THE OLD PINE TREE 



'Twas strange how the winds did harder blow, 
And press me close, though I tried to go ; 
'Twas strange how the winds so cold and damp 
Whispered warm in my ear, "You can't." 

'Twas strange how the heavy twilight mist 
Fell on my cheeks, and I thought them kissed 
By winds from Araby's shores that roam — 
"O, Jim, it is dark ! We must go home," 

I said. And now on frosty autumn eves 
When winds blow cold and brown the leaves 
I live in the past, and seem to be 
Tn our trysting-spot 'neath the old pine tree. 



God Gives Release 

Sometimes how weary seems the way 
When dark clouds hide the light of day 
When sickness, toil and deep distress 
Rob heart and mind of needed rest. 



The blessings seem to come so late — 
Human hearts must learn to wait, 
Must learn "to suffer and grow strong." 
Forgive offense, resent not wrong. 

We must not pine for joys now fled, 
We must not weep above the dead. 
Life means to rise with hope renewed 
And with the strength of Faith imbued, 



GOD GlVEvS KEI.EASE 



Go forth to battle without fear 
And know that God is with ns here 
And smile though life is lone and bare — 
Smiles scatter clouds and make it fair. 

God gives release from every sorrow. 
It comes not now., but will to-morrow. 
It may not come in ways we would devise, 
But we see darkly — God is wise. 

"Tis his intent that we must toil awhile. 
And learn to wait and learn to smile. 
He is not brave who stops to weep. 
God giveth rest "when He giveth sleep." 

Tlutc-Dores 

The notes of the llute fall gently. 

Sweet and low, 
And make my heart in its sadness 

Tremble so 
That waves of emotion mingle 

As waves of sea. 
And my thoughts in sweet communion 

Rise to Thee 

In prayer that Thou wilt help me 

So to live 
That my life will, like the flute-notes. 

Touch and give 
To hearts bowed down in sadness 

Love and light. 



FI.UTK-NOTES 



And help the soul in its weakness 
Rise in might. 

]\Iay I. like the old musician. 

Though obscure. 
Cause to vibrate the sound waves 

lliat are pure ; 
Cause them to strike the ear 

Of the sonl. 
And till it with the gladness 

More than told. 

Help me to know that though here 

I'm unseen 
Time is not wasted, and life is 

Not mean. 
Notes of true lives penetrate far 

And inspire 
Tlioughts that are pure and aims 

That are higher. 



The /Irma^eddon of nations 

In retrospect we see the armies 

Gathered upon the plain ; 
The world's great deeds of warfare 

Flash through the vision like sheets of flame 



Israel, on Canaan's hill-tops. 

Arrows of destruction shoots; 
Rome in her might and power 

Willi pitiless heart upon the weaker swoops 



l^^rancc. cnjo3'ing the spoils of 

Her triumphant hour; 
Englaiul ereeping" from the North 

Proves, at Waterloo, herself a stronger power : 

With hra\ e hearts, the Sons of Faith, 

The pious Pilgrim Band. 
Wrestling with death and famine, 

Braving in hope the war-whoop of the Savage-man 

Followed in close succession by sons 

Fo sweet Freedom wed, 
\\'arring with Tyranny's allies. 

Till from Oppression's ashes Liberty lifts her head 

Are any of these Armageddon, written of 

By apostle of old. 
Or shall we look for another 

That will serge till stars grow cold? 

^'es. a greater is being fought — 

A hundred 'gainst ten — 
The soul is the only witness. 
For the Armageddon of Nations 

Is fought in the hearts of men ; 

Is fought between white troopers 

And darker ones of wrong, 
Till the white shall rise in triumph 
And the hills of the heart shall echo 

\Wth the chords of a glad, new song. 



THE HUNGER IN MY HEART 



The Hunger in VDs Heart 

The hunger in nn* heart 

Is great to-day. 
Is worse than any poison dart, 

Or sad delay. 

I look into a home of joy 

And see at rest, 
A mother with her baby boy 

Upon her breast. 

The longing is so wild 

That peace to know. 
When mother arms clasp such a child 

And love it so. 

Would she give up this hour 

And lose the kiss 
Of baby, just for gain of power. 

Or moneyed bliss? 

No ! To mother-love 'tis sweetest, best 

To hush the cry. 
And feel warm lips against the breast 

And sing a lullaby. 

Than be a sovereign on a throne. 

And miss the joy 
That comes from being Queen of Home 

With such a boy. 

For a purpose great, unknown. 

My God sees best 
To place me here without a home ; 

Without the rest 



K) THE HUNGER IN MY HEART 



That comes in fullest measure 

To her who holds 
In fondling arms, the priceless treasure 

Of living souls ; 

Souls that bud in human sod 

And grow in love : 
'I'hat catch the l)reath of inmiortal power 

From (jod abo\e. 

If God sees best to keep from me 

This joy and rest. 
Then 1 must deep into His purj^ose see 

And know 'tis best. 

And mother-love must deeper grow 
And sweeter be. 

And fuller streams of love must flow- 
To every little child I see. 



.J5 



The $u)ccte$t Phrase 

■'Aly little girl" — when strong man gives his love 
To woman fair and pure as angels are above. 
Always she seems to him a very little thing. 
As pure and helpless as the little l)irds that sing. 

"My little girl" — yet, in her wondrous love is power 
Which gives him strength in every darkened hour 
Of loss, or when temptations lure him from afar 
She sheds a light upon his soul — his guiding star. 



THE SWEETEST PHRASE 11 



"My little girl" — from out the chaos of a useless life 
His soul awakens with strong hope and enters new the strife; 
He sees a cottage home a-through green aspen boughs, 
With wife and. baby, too. and sweet communion hours. 

"My little girl" — the woman heart knows not a sweeter phrase. 
It lights with sunshine all her darkened ways. 
She loves to have him call her "Sweetheart, Wife," 
But "Mv little girl" is dearest in her life. 



^ 



The Goal of Evolution 

The goal of evolution is Je.sus Christ.— Drum maud. 

Every lily that rears its head. 

Every violet that blooms and breathes, 
Every vine and willow, man and bird 

And all the budding trees 
Are but His thought materialized. 

They feel new life within them flow 
As if the wine of Paradise 

Commands all nature "Grow." 
Unto the soul so .saith the flower : 

"Open unto Him the petals of thy soul. 
As I unto His sunshine and His shower — 

Thus thou'lt reach thro' changes never told 
'ilie life with Him that giveth power — 

He onlv is thv soul's sweet goal. 



12 THE CITY DOOMED 



Cbe Cits Doomed 

He stood on tlie slope of the mountain— 
This man of sorrow and grief — 

And watched the spray of a fountain 
Play over a liroad green leaf. 

He heard the spray's sweet music 
And the lily's answering praise, 

Whispering each to each 
In wondrous, tender ways. 

He watched the Rose of Sharon 

Tn stately, queenly grace 
Grow with the common flower 

And feel no descent from place. 

He saw the strong stork soaring 
With thrushes upon her wing, 

He knew that she was thankful 
Because they were there to sing. 

He looked and saw in the distance 
The trees of the forest entwine 

Their arms in loving support 
And protection against the wind. 

He saw the dark cloud hover 

Ahove the parching plain ; 
He saw the corn field smiling 

Because of the cooling rain. 

He saw the hen in the hedge-row 

Give her children food 
Then draw them close beneath her wing- 

Her peeping, thankful brood. 



THE CITY DOOMED 



He looked away in the distance 

And saw the city lie 
Witli closed gates in the twilight 

And homeless people passing by. 

Then over him came a sadness — 

A sadness akin to grief — 
"Why are my people thns 

When the water loves the leaf; 

"W'h.en the rose and common flower 

Grow side by side in life 
And the thrnsh and stork are flying 

And between them is no strife? 

"Why are some in the city 
And some without the wall. 

Why will the ones protected 
Heed not the beggar's call ? 

"Why will that City Beautiful 
Turn away the Son of Light 

And rest secure in its temples. 
Secure in its sense of might? 

"O, Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 

The storm clouds hover above. 
Would that thou wouldst let me 
Shelter 'neath wings of love." 

The city saw not his sorrow. 

Cared not for the pain in his heart, 

Lived for the gain of to-morrow, 
Playing a cold, proud part. 



14 THH CITY DOOMED 



"Picliold, tliv house is loft desolate." 

This is the Master's word : 
"Thoii'it see me no more till them canst say. 

'Rless'd he that cometh. the Lord.' " 

The day of doom was hastened. 

And now that city bends 
Beneath the heel of Islam 

And unto him tribute sends. 

So the fate of man is measured 
By the heart that within beats. 

If love is left uninvited. 

He will lie at a conqueror's feet. 

A conqueror worse than Islam 
Because of the power he holds 

To deaden sensibilities 

And shrivel immortal souls. 

The gates of thy heart's city 
Must ne'er at all be closed 
For the law of retribution 
Bringeth eternal woes — 

Woes such as mighty Israel 

Felt on the latter day 
When lore withdrew to the Gentile 

And heathen Rome held sway. 

Then open thy heart to the Master — 

He descendeth from above. 
Thy life will grow and deepen — 

The Master's reign is Love. 



THE REALM OF REST 



Che Realm of Rest 

"ris strange our hopes are realized so late. 
And that the fondest oft seem kept by fate; 
'Tis strange we struggle so in pride and fear 
And waste our lives in fruitless effort here ; 
'Tis strange we look to worldly things for rest. 
And that we cannot say. "Thy will is best." 
'Tis strange how restless we should ever grow. 
"Tis strange that we of earth no peace can know. 
No peace can know? O. list to the voice of One 
Who calls to burdened man and bids him come 
Where hearts are thankful and know no wrong. 
And sing in glad triumph the whole day long. 
This realm is the realm where the Savior dwells. 
'Tis the plain of His love, and He digs His wells 
Like Abram of old. and sweet waters How 
In streams of plenty to all who go 
In response to the Spirit and Bride 
Who fore\er are calling across the tide, 
"Come. O, come, and with me abide." 

Victcrv Lies in Stru^^le 

Out of suffering emerges the strongest soul. 
All things are working to perfect the whole. 
Man is grandest when seamed with scars — 
Suffering only tlie weakling mars. 

Our God of wisdom, who orders all. 
In every sorrow trumpets the call 
Unto man, "Up. go forward ever!" 
Victory comes l)v inaction never. 



16 HE OB DE WORI.' 



He Ob dc Ulorr 

Bless gracious, if dat ain't ole Dan. 
B'lieve he gone crazy 'bout dat ban' 
Jest see him prancin' up de street — 
Ain't no rumcrtiz in his feet. 



Out in de liills he walk mighty slow. 
An" say he gittin' ole and awful po' ; 
Say. "I'll soon be gone, I feels de sign." 
But he come to a circus every time. 

Out in de hills he look mighty sad. 
Dress like a parson, an' git awful mad 
If you happens lo 'hide to how he prance 
When de show^ ban' play a coon-time dance. 

He alius say. "I'll go to de show 
To see de elerfant, an' you all know 
Dat ole Dan's 'ligion is good as gold. 
Hit is sin to persecute de ole." 

Bless gracious, he done bro't Cely Ann. 
Ain't no countin' for dat ole Dan. 
He spen' his chink, but what he keer. 
Wid plenty ob 'possums an' 'simmun beer, 

An' yam pertaters an' gubber peas. 
An' lots ob hickernuts on de trees? 
So what's de need ob livin' in fear, 
An' missin' de circus every year? 



HE OB DE WORI, 



Den in cle hills he preach all day. 
An' in de love feas' up an' say, 
"I testertates I is a chosen chile. 
I lives my "ligion all de while.'' 

Jes like I neber seed him prance 
Follow'n de ban' to a coon-time dance. 
I got jes sense ernough to know 
Why he come to de circus show. 

He never come to bring Cely Ann, 

(He mighty sly, dat very ole Dan!) 

To see de elerfant an' de clown 

An' to show her de big things in de town. 

I know de reason good as you. 
Jes like 'em all. he crazy, too, 
'Bout a show wid a dress'd up ban'. 
He "ob de worl'." dis very ole Dan. 



Dnt Srallment VDan 

Dare he go — -dat 'stallment man — 
Whis'lin' a tune lack Bough's big ban'. 
Needn't come knockin' at my front do'. 
Don't want de rugs coverin' my white flo'. 

Dem picture men is ernough for me. 
Dar's Dilsey's lackness — an' lem me see- 
'Taint no mo' lack what I sont to him 
Dan Dilsev's lack a ashes bin. 



18 DAT 'STAI.I,MENT MAN 



Dey comes around wid de frankes' face. 
An' brings de rugs an' de snow-white lace. 
An' begs de niggers to git a supply, 
For de time is comin' when goods is hi'. 

De poo' nigger think while goods is low 
Better git ernough to cuber de floo'. 
De 'stallment man. he nice and perlite. 
But de c'lectin' man. he wanter fight. 

He say, "Dat money mus' come right away 
Or T pull yo' goods in one mo' day." 
So r shuts my do' an' peeps fru de crack 
Till de 'stallment man done went clean back. 

I thanks de good Lo'd he let in de light, 
So I scours my ilo' an' makes it white. 
An' prays to de Lo'd to gimme grace 
To 'zist dat man wid his rugs an' lace. 

I is got a plenty for my poo' needs. 

An' I hoes my garden, an' plants my seeds. 

I carpets my yard wid jes ten cents 

An' drapes it round wid a lace-work fence. 

I rocks on my tlo' so white an' clean. 
An' de mornin' glor}^ an' de clementene 
Is my lace curtains decked in diamon' dew. 
An' dey's alius fresh an' dey's alius new. 

Yes. I'se mighty ole and bchin' de times. 

But I keeps my nickles an' keeps my dimes. 

- thanks de good Lo'd for his savin' grace 

An' keepin' dat 'stallment man way frum mv pl;ice. 



ARISTOCRACY 19 



ilristocracy 

Scene: Front room of a cabin. Aunt Polly, fat, coal-black 
and forty, humming a "meetin' chune," while her flying 
needles weave a pondrous stocking. 

Enter: Mrs. D. Reginal Whitey (color, "ginger-cake-/' pro- 
fession. Lady of Leisure.) 

i\lRS. D. Reginal Whitey : "I isn't signifyin' a mistake in 
makin' de sumption dat Ls 'dressin" de lady ob dis stablish- 
ment, I presumes?" 

Aunt Polly : "I don't know nutlfin' 'bout yo' big words, an' 
I ain't studdin' you, never." 

Mrs. D. Reginal Whitey : "I persupposes 3^ou is aware dat 
yo' circumspection is disqualified in propogatin' yo' ambi- 
tionary son to take matrimonial inclemency to my collegiate 
daughter?" 

Aunt Polly: "If dat whut you come heah fuh. you jes as 
well lef heah. Yo gal ain't nuffin but a nigger lack de res' 
ob us." 

Mrs. D. Reginal Whitev : ''Yo' incinerations is highly in- 
sultin' to my insensibility. 'Sense de reflection — but I wants 
de infermation : If my Clemantina do unite her 'fections to 
dat hetrogenus son ob yo's. whah she gwine perform de func- 
tions ob society? Whah yo' piannah frum which she can 
maniperlate music? Whah — " 

Aunt Polly : "If she come heah, she'll maniperlate music 
frum de wash-boa'd an' if you don' look out de w^hite folks 
will be holdin' a inques' at my front do." 

I gib you to understan' dat I'm a quality lady. 

Ain't no nigger better'n me. if I is a little shady. 

I takes in washin' fer my livin'. yes, I do. 

But I's jes as good as any nigger, an' a big sight better'n you. 



20 ARISTOCRACY 



I ain't got eyes fer nuffin an' eahs dat never heah — 
You been befo' de Mayah jes twenty times dis yeah. 
An' den yon got de shoance to dress yoself so fine 
An* speak in terms dispectful 'bout dat son ob mine. 

You may prance erlong de street in de sportiest way dat is. 
But when you comes to visit me. better 'sume de air ob biz, 
An' quit yo' minsin roun' on dem high heels an' toes 
A spoutin' dem big words, an' showin' off dem close. 

If I ain't got no piannah an' a high-post iron bed, 
I got some spectibility, an' you heah whut I done said. 
You jcs perform dat two-step ac' right out ob dat frunt do' 
Or dah won't be lef ernough ob you to grease yo' baf-room 
flo'." 

Mrs. D. Reginal Whitev : 
"Jcs listen at dat nigger — insultin' me dat way. 
I means to patronize her to de law dis very day. 
An' make a afferdavit fer a overt ac' an' deed 
Fer tramplin' on my feelins, jes lack she do a weed. 

"I nebcr come to dis heah house to raise no fuss an' font 
But to rectify dis mattah an' fine whut she about. 
Dat oncouf son ob hers nebber tech de leds ob a book. 
My daughter, she a graduate — she can't scrub close an" cook." 

Her Indisposition 

"Howdy. Hetty." 

"Tollable, thanky. Liza. How is you feelin'?" 

"Po'ly, Hetty — mighty po'ly. I been had a spleen an' de 

doctah say if hit had a-wu'k up hit would had a hit my heart 

anu' kilt me, but hit done lodged." 



DAT EJERKATED MAN 21 



Dat Ejcrkatcd IDan 

T hates dat ejerkated man, 
I does de very bes' I can 
An' den he lif hi' head at me 
An' fling it off lack he don' see. 

He pass me by in de bigges' flurry. 
Say, "Stan' aside, I in a hurry!" 
Make lack business keep him late — 
Ain't no nigger better'n ole Kate. 

Yes, I's ole Kate, but I knows mo' now 
'An all dem niggers whuts in a row 
To dress up fine an' teach a school. 
No, ole Kate don' never ac' no fool. 

I say, "I'd rather be jes plain ole Kate 
An' wo'k fer de white folks soon an' late 
Dan be a ejerkated, dressed up coon 
Wid one ole fiddle out ob tune." 

Dat all he got. but he dress up fine 
An' make lack he live on cake an' wine. 
He walk de street wid de bigges' air — 
But de kink in hi' wool — hit stay right dah. 

He can pass me by jes lack a streak 
An' ten to dat business up de street, 
Ole Kate don't keer — she lack it fine. 
She de one wid de cake an' wine. 

If her ejerkation do come sho't 
She say, "Come heah, ole knife an' fo'k 
I'll carve de tu'key an' bake de pie 
An' live on fat till de day I die." 



IN SASSIETY 



In $a$$ietv 

Julie Ann Snovvblack : "Look heah, Piiddin. whuts de 
reason you kant see a spectable nigger when you meets her 
in de middle ob de big road?'' 

Crinilin Lillian Jones: "Julie Ann Sno\vl)lack, will you 
be so bligin' as to simerlate de 'sumption dat I defers to be 
rickernized by de cognomen ob Crinilin Lillian Jones?" 

J. A, S. : ''An' den you ain't nuffin' but Puddin Jones jes 
lack you wus befo' you foun' dem ole close dat de white 
folks frowed away." 

C. L. J.: "Dese habiliamcnts in which 1 is retired is to my 
satismifaction. We is in sassiety and obsquentiously prepos- 
tacize all Afro-Mericans whut ain't in de swim." 

J. A. S. : "Yes, I done heard dat you niggers wus powerful 
highferlootin since dat nigger wdd dat long-tail coat on been 
courtin' dat yaller sister ob yourn." 

C. L. J. : "Is you speakin' in dat tone ob voice 'bout dat 
Mr. Perfessor Persimmons Jefferson Kinks, leader ob de 
Coon-town arkestry? Why, nigger, he is pre-eminantly the 
most is disqualified violinst in Coon-town." 

J. A. S. : "Huh, den he ain't nuffin but a i)illow-slip fiddler, 
case I seed him." 

C. L. J. : "Does you mean to sinerate dat I has mendaciously 
breviated and circumnavigated de sublimity ob de truf?" 

J. A. S. : "I don' mean nuffin' but dat you is a kinky-headed 
wide-moufed, coal-black nigger, same as if Lincum hadn' sot 
you free." 

C. L. J. (strikes Julie Ann Snowblack ) : "Take dat. you 
imperlite plebionian." 

J. A. S. : "Dah, I's gwin' to suppo't you fer 'sault an' battle- 
ment to Squire Van 'fo Sad'dy night, see if I don't, you good- 
fer-nuffin stuck-upish frisk, whut ain't no better'n nobody.' 

C. L. J. : "Dat ain't gwin' put you in sassiety." 



SHOUTIN' JUIvIE 23 



Shoutin* Julie 

It was a sultry clay in July. " 'Tracted meetin' "' had been in 
progress at Sweet Water colored church for several days. 
"Brudder Amos" had preached some "rousin" sermons and 
the "sisterin" had shouted more and longer than usual. Julie 
was fast losing her reputation as the "onerest shouter" in the 
church for Mary Jane had "fell out" more than a dozen times 
with "shoutin zeal" and had been "belt" by the "brudderin" 
more times than you can count, while she had shouted but 
six times and seemed not to have been heard then. To-day 
Uncle Amos was "tryin hisself;" Julie was sitting near the 
front with the determination to work up a real shouting 
notion; down the road, and not very far distant comes a 
teamster with a very unruly and lazy pair of plow mules 
hitched to a "dry-and-rattley" wagon : ever and anon he 
goads the slow pair into a trot, always accompanying the 
blow by this peremptory command to Julie, the lazier of the 
two, "Come up, Julie." While he approaches, Brudder Amos 
towers to the climax in his sermon, and Julie prepares to do 
that "long, sho-nuf shoutin." 

Uncle Amos : 

"Who am de one whut sabed on high 
An' leabe dis earth befo' he die? . 
I tells you now, 'tain't no other way, 
You got to live yo' 'ligion ebery day. 
Hit ain't de one whut got de fine close, 
Nur de one whut goes erbout a-warin' woes ; 
Don' do no good to pick de measly mote 
Frum yo' brudder's eye, nur men' hi' coat 
When you got a fault as big a beam 
An' yo' own coat rippin' up ever' seam. 



24 shoutin' jui,ie 



I makes no "souse iiiir do I "pologi/.e ; 

Sich folks aiii' fit fer Paradise. 

Hits de man whut wu'ks wid willin" han' 

To sabe a soul er till de Ian' 

Hits de one whui goes to see de poo' 

An' sets him down in the frunl doo'. 

Hits de one whut wu'ks wad might an' main 

An' trusts de good Lo'd fer de rain, 

Hits de one whut sows an' den whut reaps 

An' lays a good sher on hi' brudder's heaps, 

Xow. gib me yo' "tention all whut's heah, 

Dis am de dawn ob de Jegment yeah. 

Answer my question dis very day. 

Whut did de ole-time prophet say? 

Tjie Teamster (who has arrived at the front of tht 
church): ''Come up, Julie." 

Ji'LiK (who is in a "real shoutin' notion"): 

"Thank de Lo'd, de mes.sage done been bro't to me. 

Didn't you' heah de Lo'd say. 'Come up Julie?' 

I been waitin' long time fer de blessed inmitation. 

Praise de Lo'd hit am time fer my transmilation ! 

Lack Ligey when de hrey char'ot come down 

I jes ben heah a waitin' to be foun' 

Ob de Lo'd an' be carr'd straight to heaben 

Whah all dem blessed saints am livin', 

Dem whut lef me in dis worl' ob woe, 

L's goin' whah de sinners sins no mo'. 

O, my sisterin, de joy's unspeakin', 

De golden char'ot am jes a leakin' 

Wid de honey-dew frum de Ian' ob Canaan. 

Ls happy as er Jew^ when da' hung ole Haman." 



SHOUTIN' JUI,IE 



Uncle Amos : 

"Some ob you sis-ter-ing 
Hoi' Julie by de apunstring." 

Julie: 

"Ltm'me go! didn' you heah de Lo'd on high? 
He call er chos'n chile befo' she die. 
Whut de need ob all dis loud contention? 
Kase I been called to de sweet resemption. 
Hallylujy ! I sees de wheels ob de char'ot turnin'. 
My soul wid de bright light am aburnin'." 

Brudder Amos : 
"Sister Julie, you hab got de bestes' 'magination eber I seen. 
Dat ain' nuffin but Coot Scott wid a poo' mule team." 

Julie subsides into a trance to escape the dilemma; Coot 
drives undisturbed down the dusty road toward Skilletville 
and Brudder Amos takes up the broken thread of his "hex- 
hortation.'' 

HouY He Ulon Luziny 

Luziny, in dis whole settlement 'round 

Dah ain't no nigger ooman to be foun' 

Whut can hole a light to yo' good looks. 

Yo' can grace de fiel". an' ge whizz, how you" cooks! 

An' den yo' washin", hit am jes as glossy 

As any Jacky Jones an' Jenny Mossy 

Turns out down dah in dat steam laundry. 

Dat yo' do 
Dah ain't no nigger whut can hole a light to you. 



26 HOW HE WON LUZINY 



You jes" grows finer looking every day. 

I likes jes' fine dat swell, invitin' way 

You holes yo' dress when walkin' down de street. 

You ketches me de way you use dem little feet. 

An' in dem fetchin' cakewalks, lawsy sakes, 

You beats de bes' an' always zarves de cakes, 

Dat you do 
l^ah ain't no nigger whut can hole a light to you. 

You got a face jes' full ol) pulchetude 
You wuf de axin' an' I'd lack awful good 
If you would 'sent to be my lawful wife 
An' help me up de steep ole hill ob life. 
If you'll do dis I'll tell hit all eround 
You does de bestes' washin' in de town. 

Dat you do 
Dab ain't no nigger whut can hole a light to you. 



Uiid SiDcct Liberty on Ws Tongue 

De Lincum gunboats, da awaitin' an' de freedom song done 

been sung, 
I gwin jine my frin's an' die wid sweet liberty on my tongue. 
T ain't gwin take no close, fu de captain say dabs a plenty dab. 
An' I hi eves him. too. so I gwin hurry up quick an' git my 

share. 
I done fru wid slabery days a wu'kin in de cotton an' de corn. 
Bottom rail done got on top ! I knowed de glor'us day 'ud 

dawn. 

Whyn't you come on Sy? Gwin stay heah an' slabe de res ob 
vo' davs? 



WID SWEET LIBERTY ON MY TONGUE 



Lawd. nigger, you sho is foolish — Mioses done come to lead 

in heabenly ways. 
Lack de chillun ob Israel we's marchin' frum de blackness 

ob de night 
To de Ian' ob fat an' honey, an' de way am clare an' bright. 
Wc gwin be fed on manna frum de Lawd's own righteous 

han/ 
Thank Gawd ! I gwin to de Ian' ob Canaan wid de Lawd's 

own chusen ban'. 

Dah*$ a Bigger 'Bellion in VDy Heart 

"Here, Joe, carry my horse down to the old spring branch 
To water, and be careful how you ride him — he can prance 
Right out from under you — I'll bet you never in your day 
Sat such, a horse — he's blooded stock and just the finest bay 
The state can furnish — he's worth a million, if he's worth 

a dime. 
You ought to feel honored to get to ride that horse of mine." 

"Yes, sub. I'll ride him down to watah" — and if you'd gone 

that way 
You would have heard sarcastic words and heard him say, 
"T wusht wid all my might dem Yanks neber had a seed 

de Souf — 
Tes' come down hcah an' give de white trash room to blab 

da mouf. 
I do rar'ly wonder if dat red-neck think I neber rid a 

boss ? 
He neber see de day he own sich blooded stock as my ole 

boss. 

"We come frum No'th Calinny in a coach hi'ched up wid fo'. 
Reckon he think dat massa Jack would eber been so po' 



28 DAH'S A KIGGER 'BEIvT^ION IN MY HEART 



Dat he'd feel proud ob one ole boss whut didn't hab no mate. 
Whut would amble long, lack dis, an neber break hi' gate? 
I wus de carr'g driber an da dress me up so gran' 
My folks want kin to po' white trash — da de swellest in de 
Ian'. 

"I members good an' well when we fust come to dis heah state 
Dat man wus so 'literate he couldn't put hi' foot inside de gate 
Ob my ole massah's yard — he'd hollow. "Hello! will dem 

dogs bite?" 
r members well my white folks say, "He de one-gallus stripe." 
He come frum dem back counties — da jes' flocked heah lack 

bees. 
Da thought de Ian' wus give away and dat money growed 

on trees. 

"If anything in de worl' make me mad as a pestered woss 
It is to have dat red-neck say. 'Yo' never rid no boss.' 
I wush dem abolition Yanks had a let de Souf alone. 
Jes' come down heah an robbed de nigger ob a ristercratic 

home. 
In my own way ob thinkin' de serbitude am wusser dan befo' 
Dah's a bigger 'hellion in my heart dan de Rebels felt, I 

know." 

The Credit System 

"Monin'. Square. Would you min' 'formin' a seremony 
fu me an' Sindy?" 

"Want to get married, do you? Well, where is your 
license?" 

"Bless goodness ! I done clean fogot to git dem things. 
Is da' neckasary? Say. Square, 'spose you tie de knot now, 
an' I'll git 'em when I sells ni}- crap, I sho will." 



KITCHEN RACKET 29 



Kitchen Racket 

"Jes look at cook— done put dat pie on top'n de stove to burn. 
If she ole ernough to court ole Sy, she ole ernough to learn 
Dat settin' things down on de fire widout a cap or sumpin, 
Would make 'em scorch so's da wouldn't be fit fer nuffin." 
"G'way frum heah boy, an' quit yo talkin' to me. 
You's chillun, jes lack de es ob'm be. 
I knows how to cook — been cookin' all my days. 
G'way frum heah. boy. wid yo biggety, sassin' ways. 

Come heah tellin' me how to cook dis pie ■ 

I's a solictous cook, an" will be till T die. 

I cook fer de whitefolks fo eber you come heah, 

Dis boahdin' house been had me nigh on to twenty yeah. 

I wus a cookin' heah de yeah Garfield avus kilt. 

Look whut you doin'. now all dat grease done spilt 

Right down on my clean floo'. Git outin dis heah kitchen. 

If I git erhol ob you. you'll need some bran new britchen. 

1 hates to see dese young folks git so monstrous knowin'— 

Yes. chile, de fust week I wus heah it wus mighty cole an 

snowin'. 
■ Twus Christmas time— I wisht you'd seed dem pies an' cakes. 
Uh ! when T thinks ob dem good things my ole heart fairly 

aches." 

"Gee whizz ! Aunt Ursie, seems to me wid pisin cake 

Dah wouldn' be lef nobody else nur none ob you to ache." 

"Look heah, boy, you got to quit dat sassin' me so, 

You thinks dah ain't a thing dat you don't know. 

You needn' think because Fs ole I done los' all my sense. 

You keep a'sassin' me dis way, I pitch you ober dat fence. 

Yes, chile, de bigges' day I eber seed wus when Garfiel' wus 

da id — ■ 
We celubrated gran'— T dressed up fine frum foot to haid. 



30 KITCHEN RACKET 



[ had on silk — dali ain't no nigger now can dress that fine. 
"S'on don' know nuffin 'bout liabin' a celnbratin' time." 

"Dat cebd)ration ain' got nnffin to do wid yo' conrtin' Uncle 

Sy. 
Nnr never does bit touch de case ob Imrnin' dat peach pie. 

Von tryin' to change de subject an' frow me offin de track — 
If [ don' know when folks courtin', I'll take a seat way back. 
Now, cook, jes be right good an' tell hit to yo' sonny, 
Didn' T heah you call him some sweet name, lack honey?" 

"You make me mad ernough to kill you wid dis boabd — 
Yo' heads jes as empty as dis heah sody goahd ! 
Tf you's jes as little as yo' brain, I'd drown you in dis sud. 
You never heahcd me call him nuffin. less sometime 1 call 
him bud." 



/lunt tDillv s lUdsh Dav 

She supervises the work of Clorindy, 
The while she rocks her pickaninny, 
And sings a mellow, plaintive song 
in doleful meter, low and long. 

"Tf my mother gits to heav'n-n-n-n^ 

Put some fire roun' dat pot, Clorindy- 
Trebulitions car'd her in-n-n-n-n — 

Hang dem close while de day is windy- 
Til be dab. O. yes. Til ])e dab, O. yes- 
Make a hurry, Clorindy, don" yo' heah? 
When my mother gits — Rench dat dress 
To heav'n-n-n-n-n O. yes. Til be dab.' 



AUNT MII^TA'S WASH DAY 



He will not sleep, this coal-lack pickaninny, 
So harder she bumps-te-bumpy-te-bim ! 

The whiles giving orders to slow Clorindy. 
And singing a longer metered hymn. 

"Dah's hre in de eas' an' dah's tire in de wes' — 
Didn' yo' heah dat frog splash in dat spring?— 

An' hits burnin' down— Go bile dat dress- 
In de wilderness — yo' trifflin' thing! 

I went down de hill, but not to stay — ■ 
Go beat dat linen wid de battlin' boa'd !— 

But my soul got happy, an' I staid all day- 
Better put some mo' soap in dat big goa'd." 

He goes to sleep, this chubby pickaninny. 

Then when he wakes. Oh, how his moon-eyes shine ! 

For mammy, while giving orders to Clorindy, 
In rag-time air is singing merry rhyme. 

"Turnerbout, swingerbout, rolly-polly baby- 
Prop up dat little tub on t'other side— 
Turnerbout, swing—. 'Yo' ain't no fine white lady— 
Erbout, rolly-polly. don' open yo' mouf so wide- 
Baby, you's mammy's little 'lasses candy- 
Don' yo' heah dat rain up dah a-brewin? 
Turnerbout, swingerbout, mammy's little dandy. 
Hang dem close whah da ain' kwin't ruin !" 

With this injunction she hurries home — 
"To see if dem niggers is all done come 

Frum de new-groun' fiel' whah da cuttin' hay- 
Wonder Clorindy goin' stay in dat tub all dav?" 



32 DE COURSE OB TRUE I.OVE 



Dc Course ob True Love 

Martha was late with breakfast ; it was scorched and l)adly 
cooked ; she slammed doors, rattled pans, threw stove wood 
at the cat. and was as ill-tempered as discretion would 
allow. 

"Has Dick been bad again?" she was asked. 

She removed her snuff stick and spat out the wMndow, 
"Done quit de ole fool." she replied, her lower lip hanging. 

"What has he done this time?" 

"Jes kasc 1 ax him reckon whah dat biggoty, smart- 
alecky yaller nigger, what cook down heah at de hotel, got 
dat ole connnon silk wais, he up an' ax me if hit wars any my 
business; den 1 ax him if hit wus any his business an' he 
up an' commence cussin' me. an' den w'hen I said suffin 
nuther he up an" slap mc — ole fool ! I sho is gwin boahd dat 
midnight canuun ball an' he ain't nebber see me no mo' 
nether.'' 

Next morning IVDartha had an early breakfast, an unusually 
good one and was beaming with good n.ature. 

"Have you made u]) with Dick?" 

She grinned sheepishly. "He jes begged so hard an' pitiful 
lack — an' den you knows de corse ob true love nebber did 
run smoove, nohow." 



^ 



Parental Solicitude 

"You. Ike. git off dat railroad track fo' dat grabbel train 
'un ober you. den T hab to pay a doctah bill." 



SUNDOWN ON THE OLD YAZOO 33 



Suncloiun on the Old Yazoo 

Old Sol, drawing about him his mantle of crimson and 
gold, sinks behind a screen of cypress trees ; the little willows 
in the water's edge shiver like a man with the ague; the 
choked, hoarse voice of the bullfrog calls out from the 
bayou ; filmy, white and ghostly, rises the miasma from 
stagnant pools and floats far afield ; a bow-legged pickaninny 
in his shirt-tail climbs the slippery river bank, a bucket of 
muddy water precariously balanced on his flat head, a snarl- 
ing, yellow skeleton trotting at his heels ; in a nearl)y cabin, 
a woman sings. "Roll, Jordan, Roll,'' as she rocks her dirty, 
black baby to sleep ; from a tree-top comes the hoarse, mock- 
ing laughter of a swamp owl ; weird, melancholy, thrilling, 
as no other music can thrill you. the wordless song of the 
negro field-hand rises and falls ; he is thinking of a crap 
game and is supremely happy ; the air is laden with the odor 
of hoe-cake and bacon — it is "nigger-supper-time ;" home- 
ward strolls Uncle Bob, happy from a day's hard work, and 
thus soliloquizes : 

"Peaceful am de valley an' I'm peaceful on my way. 

De golden-rods is bright an' de meadow's sweet wid hay. 

Cotton bolls abustin' in de gold-lack glow 

Lazy little toadies hoppin' mighty slow, 

Frosty ripe persimmons fallin' to de groun' 

An" in de stilly sunset heah de music soun' 

In de blessed country ob de ole Yazoo, 

When de boys begin a-singin' 'Ooo, ah. Ooo. ah. Ooo.' 

Hits de sweetes' music in de worl' an' 'twould be de bes' 

to you 
Tf you could heah de boys a-singin' on de ole Yazoo. 

"De bresh fire am a cracklin' in my little cabin home. 
Dis nigger ain't a-hankerin' in furren lan's to roam. 



34 SUNDOWN ON THE OLD YAZOO 



Hit mighty good at sundown to watch de cotton-tail 

An' de little squirrels go abouncin' down de rail; 

Hit pleasin' as a 'possum to see de punkin rows 

An' de little birds a-skimmin' over wdiah de river flows. 

I feels a-nigh to heaven on de ole Yazoo 

When I heah de boys a-singin' 'Ooo. ah. Ooo, ah, Ooo.' 

Hits de bestes music in de worl" an' 'twould be de bes to you 

If you could heah de boys a-singin' on de ole Yazoo." 

Dcver Tricndship Loved $o VDnch 

I try to think I love him as my friend — 

I have no right to love him otherwise — 
Yet, when he comes a-near and low doth bend 

Above me, and looks with tender eyes 
Down into mine, I always w'onder why 

My eye-lids droop, and why my heart doth throb 
And beat so wildly, though so hard I try 

To conquer. How my heart-cords trill and sob 
As harp strings under gentle touch ! 
Ah, never friendship loved so much. 

He has not asked, but seems to understand 
Better than I, the trembling of my hand 

Within his own. I will not e'er demand 
From him an explanation, but will give 

My deepest love and be content to live 
E'en as we are, and willingly forgive 

This silence, for though I hold no token, 

Within his eyes, though not a word be spoken, 
I read a promise which never may be broken. 

How my heart responds unto his touch ! 

Ah, ne^'er friendship loved so much. 



A PRAYER 35 



J\ Prayer 

O God, fill me with the Holy Ghost that teacheth me 

The great victory 
Crowning death by fire, or stones, or cruel tree, 
As well as that which comes in sermons filled with 

Words of might, 
Which fall into the chambers of the soul and make 

Them light. 

O God, fill me with the Holy Ghost that giveth power 

To plead for thee 
Like Peter in a Pentecost, or meet the cruel hour 
Of death, like gentle Stephen on that dark day 

For him who died — • 
Him who promised, "Lo, I am with you alway" — • 

The Crucified. 

Love 1$ Divine 

When friendships fail, as oft they do. 

'Tis best to question not nor pine. 
Pure love transcends the thing untrue 

And knows the source of love divine. 

And feels though here love is misplaced 
The soul has strong and better grown. 

Soon 'twill see that love replaced 

By object true, for love that is sown. 

In God's own acres reapeth love — 
He fixed a law for man's defense: 

When man loves man. as God above 
Love gaineth love as recompense. 



36 I.OVE IS DIVINE 



Love is divine and holds the power 

To reproduce, and find its own 
E'en in the darkness of the hour 

Of grief that follows love that is tlown. 

Love cheers the heart with hope sublime 
Some day to fuse with a tender soul 

That knows the essence of love divine 
And row as one into fortune's goal. 

That harbor of peace and sweet content 
Where man loves man with magnitude; 

Where for good of other, each life is lent 
And selfish aims true souls exclude. 

Uloman 

"Gifted with power, mystery and motherhood," 
She stands apart, ordained of God for every good. 
She holds within the palm of her white hand 
The weal of nations and the fate of man : 
Tis hers to feel the strength of throbbing love, 
With power on her head because of angels just abov 
'Tis for her tender touch that little orphans cry. 
And for the home she builds that man will die ; 
'Tis hers, the mystery of the new-born life. 
"Tis hers to give it power for the strife; 
Woman — al)Ove her head doth circle holy light; 
Woman — with intuition ever strong for right ; 
Upo-. the dawn of sweet creation's day 
When mated birds were singing tender lay 
She sprang from God's own loving hand. 
"The best, the sweetest gift to man." 



I WIIvI, BELIEVK 



I Ulill Believe 

Sorrow is surging in my heart to-night 
O'er joys that came so near, hut soon took flight- 
Joys that alone to woman's heart can give 
Strength in affliction, power to conquer ill 

"Tis said our joys that seem so fair and sweet 
Oft fall like fruit of Sodom at the feet, 
And hurst the peel that was so tempting red 
When hung in sunshine just ahove the head. 

Then, like the fruit, instead of luscious meat. 
The disappointing hopes lie ashes at the feet ; 
Instead of songs, the brakish billows moan, 
Like Dead Sea waves that lash and foam. 

I cannot think. I will not think it true, 
That this sweet hope that surely lived in you 
Would e'er have made my life a Dead Sea vale 
Where hopes hold dust, and briny billows wail. 

But I could be so brave if you were here 
Close by my side to whisper words of cheer. 
You were so noble, strong and ever true 
That e'en your very touch was inspiration new. 

I will believe that were you now with me 

My life from every sorrow would be free. 

And that my thoughts would never outw^ard roam 

But center in sweet love within our home. 

In happy dreams I saw myself your wife, 
Strong in your strength for all the ills of life; 
Home was my all. What else brings happiness? 
Wealth gives no more nor can joy live with less. 



Time did not wait but hastened by so swift, 
1 reached the porch — had but the latch to lift — 
When death stepped in before I hardly knew. 
Plundered my heart and took my boy so true. 

It does me good to sit and dream awhile 
Of home, of you, and rock a vision-child ; 
These rented walls, so dingy and so bare. 
In that fair dreamland vanish into air. 

In these sweet dreams I gather strength from thee 
To be the brave, pure girl you'd have me be, 
And my faith wings up to the home above 
Where now your soul is safe in greater love. 



^ 



Till Death U$ Part 

She laughed, and O, her laughter was so cold 

And cruel to me, who loved and trusted so 

This man— so pure I thought him, but so old 

In sin, she said, and now had fallen low. 

My heart beat wild as caged bird beats the wing 

'Gainst iron bars and closes 'gainst the light 

Its eyes and refuses evermore to sing, 

As if the world were shrouded with the night. 

What bitter thoughts surged then within my soul 

Toward her, who thought he thus had sold 

His honor, for the shallow, fleeting bliss 

From beauty, even one unlawful kiss. 

No, I yet will love and trust }'Ou, dear. 

Though for awhile, perhaps, you anchored near. 



TILL DEATH US PART 39 



Perilously near, that luring, treacherous shore. 
Where many ships go down to rise no more. 
You are as pure as when in childhood's day 
We gamboled on the brook or sheaved the hay 
Together. O, Jack, I could not bear to know 
You, too, would say, "Ah, all must wild oats sow," 
For in my heart I hold you in fond pride 
As one removed above the small things that betide 
The man of shallow nature. Ah, dearest heart, 
I trust to you my love and life till death us part ! 



^ 



Ulc M in His Plan 

^rhy will be done, in small things 

And in great ; 
They labor, too, in thy great plan 

Who only wait. 
Not every man can reach the height. 

Or win the goal 
In mental strides, and deeds of might, 

And actions bold. 

Thou dost intend the stronger ones 

To battle go. 
Or in thy vineyards prune and reap, 

And plow and sow ; 
Thou hast not given to weaker ones 

A meaner place — 
Thou dost decree that he who waits 

Shall also win the race. 



40 WE ARE IN HIS PIvAN 



'Jlien while they serve with sword 

And mighty pen. 
Help ns. who wait in silence. 

Give to men 
A heritage of patience, sweet content, 

O, do not swerve, 
My heart, but know that waiting 

Is to serve. 



^ 



lUhcn Charlie Passes Bv 

His smile is pure and sweet and bright. 

As bright as daytime's dawning. 
1 love for Charles to pass up street. 

Look in. and say. "Good-morning." 

He's not a great big man with beard 

Who fascinates and pleases. 
But just a slender little boy. 

Who whistles, laughs and teases. 

He conquers hearts and does not try — 
'Tis all without his knowing. 

It is because in passing by 

He smiles and says, "Good-morning." 

He does not know that low and sweet 
As sweet as sea-shells murmuring. 

My workshop echoes all the day 
His smile and glad "Good-morning.'" 



A mother's PKAYKR 41 



J\ IWotbef $ Prayer 

A mother sat in the twilight rocking her baby boy ; 
He gooed and cooed, filling her heart with joy. 
With his curly head nestled against her heart 
They played "peep-eye" till all was dark. 

Then he cuddled close to his mother's breast 

And sweetly, lovingly was sung to rest. 

As thus she sat, her boy clasped to her heart. 

She sighed and said, "How can I from my baby part?' 

"He first a lad, and then a man must be. 
And then he'll be too big to sit upon my knee. 
But when he is big and great 

He'll still be mother's joy 
And though so big and great 
Will still be baby boy." 

Then in his little cradle she tucked him warm in bed. 
And kneeling near her baby softly said, 
"Blest Father, who hast given. 

Teach me the way to lead. 
My boy in the narrow way 
That he'll be thine indeed ! 

"O Father. I would ask thee. 

Be with my baby boy. 
And lead him gently, Father, 

Into eternal joy." 

The Holy Father looked in love 

Upon the mother fair. 
And leads her baby heavenward, 

Tn answer to her prayer. 



42 GUII^TY 



Guilty 

The prisoner's attitude was expressive of deep dejection, 
The jury was out and the judge awaited decision, 
rhe lawyer had plead his cause — had plead for hours — 
But the thread of his fate was spun hy invisible powers. 

The powers that will not yield to crime and wrong. 
But weave a net that is sure and strong. 
He hears the whir of the wheel in its turn — 
He is pleading mere}' — the plea they spurn. 

Instead of mercy they toss reply: "Vou slew the man. 
We spin where his ashes lie 
And stitch the shroud of your hopes, now dead 
Like him who lies in his earth-cold bed. 

"We stitch with the thread of your anger white. 
In needles of oaths you spoke that night, 
By the weird light of the wild despair 
'iliat burns in the eyes of his wife so fair. 

"And while we stitch, we chant in your ear 
Songs which only the guilty hear : 
First the loud note of a piercing cry — 
The low wail, then the long-drawn sigh. 

"We paint a picture with minutest care 
Of his mother old, with silver hair — 
You need not stare, you need not start — 
'Twas your hand sent that blade to her heart, 

"Another picture we paint for you : 
Your home, your wife, your babies, too. 
From the fire of hate that night in your heart 
On the roof of that home descended a spark. 



GUII.TY 43 



"And your home consumed. Your wife so true 
Is breaking" her heart for love of you. 
You need not blame, you need not deny — 
The smoke of your anger blackens her sky. 

"Another picture we yet would show: 

A man up a gallows walking slow. 

He hears in waters of rushing flood 

These words : 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood' — 

"But hush — we go — the jury has come — 

We go to count minutes one by one." 

The foreman stepped forth and ''Guilty," he said. 

The judge gave sentence, "Hang till dead, dead." 



^ 



Our Dead 

God's peace sentinels about them keep 
Watch in the darkness, and they sleep 
Like soldiers tired of the battle's din. 
The rest is sweet, for they sleep in him. 

He touched in love the tired eyes 
He folded the hands and hushed the sighs. 
He stilled the tide in the throbbing heart 
And drew the soul to himself apart. 

Death hath come by sin of man. 
But 'tis a part of God's great plan. 
That from this death new life shall grow 
As life of lily beneath the snow. 



44 OUR DEAD 



Since death hath come by sin of man 
So also life completes the plan 
In him, who died our souls to save. 
And robbed of sting the cruel grave. 

They sweetly sleep beneath the sod 
Awaiting in peace the will of God, 
Like lilies that wait for summer rain 
'Jo burst and bud, and bloom again. 

J\ IWothcfs Sorroui 

Why do I feel this sorrow 
W hen 1 look across and see 

My neighbor with five fine boys 
Clustered about her knee? 

Why was my baby taken 

When I had none but him? 

Her life is filled with pleasure 
And T had only Jim. 

My Jim. so like his father 
With eyes so deep and blue. 

He loved his gray-haired mother 
And his heart was kind and true. 

My Jim. who was full twenty 

But still my bal)y boy 
Just like he was so long ago 

Filling my heart with joy. 

Why do I feel this sorrow 

When I look across and see 
My neighbor with five fine boys 

Plaving about her knee? 



L.ofC, 



A mother's sorrow 45 



Is it because I envy 

The source of all her joj^? 
O, no. in watching her 

Aly heart calls for my boy. 

But why am I sad and lonely 

When all things sweetly tell 
My God is a God of mercy 

And doeth all things well? 

I look to him in my sorrow, 

And with my hand in his, 
I whisper. "Thy will to-day, to-morrow. 

Comes the answer. "Peace, be still." 

J\ Revelation 

She sits in the door-way watching 
The sun sink away in the west. 
The sweet winds catch the whisper. 
"Love is best.'' 

Of whom and of what is she thinking 
As she rocks her baby to rest? 
Why does she sing and keep singing. 
"Love is best." 

She is thinking of when a maiden 
How she followed ambition's behest. 
Then, how easy the old sweet lesson, 
"Love is best." 

Forgot are her early ambitions 
In the boy that clings to her breast. 
By him came the revelation, 
"Love is best." 



46 ONE OF THE REAPERS 



One of the Reapers 



Dedicated to John G. Paton, D.D., Missionary to the 
South Sea Islands. 

They dwelt in loving confidence in a cot by the Scottish sea; 
She looked into his eyes and said, "A secret I've for thee; 
"Tis of a joy for which we both have yearned and prayed for 

long. 
It fills my days with gladness and my heart with sweet new- 
song ; 
Within my being, strong and deep, a love so wondrous lives ; 
For God, in answer to our prayer, a little child now gives. 

"E'en now my thought grows strangely bold, in longing for 

the hour, 
W'lien T shall clasp the little one, and feel the mighty power 
Of mother-love grown deep ; how sweet to bear the child, to 

be thy wife. 
The little child will teach me more the meaning of my life." 

They knelt that night together, not to pray for gold nor land, 
But even then, to give their child, to God's ow-n loving hand, 
'i'o use for good to human kind, "Thou, Lord, mayst take 

thine own ; 
For thine it is, not ours: to us, it is from thee a loan. 
Then watch us. Lord, and give us grace to lead the child 

aright, 
lliat, some day, unto heathen lands, he'll bear Thy Word of 

light." 

To-day. that child of theirs, in power walks by the Southern 

Sea, 
Like the son of humble Hannah, teacher and judge is he; 
And angels o'er his reaping, sing praises from above. 
While the mother, watching it from heaven, is filled with 

thankful love. 



DEC 3 -1903 



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